Atomic Tonic

I'm one tantrum away from selling my toddler to the highest bidder. Her grandmother was just here from Sweden for a week and a half. Matilda was fun and games pretty much the whole time, aside from some bedtime highjinks. That grandmother left last night and her other grandparents swooped in and took her home for the night. My mother dropped her off today and once the dust settled and it was just us, the epic torture of the two-year old meltdown amped up.

She whined. And she whined. And she whined. About dropping her doll and wanting to wear her sipppppppers (I was not stopping her but maybe one of them was not close enough to her foot for her liking). She wanted to eeeeeeat. And then did not eat. And then wanted to eeeeeeat. And then no eating. She wanted her doll -- she dropped it and she wanted it baaaaaaaack -- and it was up to me to get it. She wanted her Lucia headgear (worn below)

and her doll and the dirty striped shirt she pulled out of the laundry. She needed them alllllllllllll and the whining was screaming and she popped tears like party favors. She motored upstairs for her bath and then busted a valve because no, nooooooooo bath. She scratched at the door and yelled for baby Iiiiiiiida (who she already had in a dead grip). Noooooo bath! Babbbby Iiiiiiiida! Sipppppers! Shirrrrrt! Daaaaaat! Noooooooo!

Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!

That last one being me. When she's not cracking glass with her vocal cords, she's terribly sweet and funny and she repeats everything we say. I should stop swearing. She's been going to swim class with Niclas. She has no problem going under. Loves kicking and jumping in. She holds onto Niclas' hands but nearly treads water by herself.

At the end of class this week she had a tantrum when Niclas went to swim some laps in the big pool. Papa! Paaaapa! Paaaaaaaaaapa! Dripping wet popping tears stomping whining for more. More Papa. More pool. More kiiiiiicking! Paaaaaaapa! While I got her dressed and carried her through the Y, straight out to the car and allllll the way home. Paaaaaapa! Paaaaaaaaapa!

Actually, now that I think about it, I don't need a high bidder. I'd take a lowball offer and a bottle of vodka.